A Continuance Beginning

At times...

For many, like the aimless curl of candle smoke,

Life’s flame at times seems short of purpose.

And yet…

To not forget the spark that started in one’s sandbox

with mud pies of earth’s residuals of life,

with empty miniature plastic cups

inviting neighbors and pets alike for morning tea,

and maybe the throw of a dirt ball for play,

is allowing the shimmer of a beginning.

By noon of a being’s existance…

Awakening tot lots have become gardens

where momentum tills new soil,

colorful seeds find slumber,

promised blooming begins.

Once sundown rests on the horizon…

Slumber’s darkness gazes upon toiled labor evaporating with dust and smoke,

the swirls of a continuance formed-ringlet funnels skyward,

carrying spent lilac petals now brown as its humus life support,

to distant playgrounds of laughter’s reprise

and its landscapes of tomorrow’s renewal.

Nights of reflection.

Life’s circuitous route.

The forever-windings of infinite beginnings.